Gluten-Free Peach Cobbler

Warm from the oven. My gluten-free peach cobbler recipe.

Is Mercury in retrograde? And if so, Darling, do I believe it can wreak havoc with recipes? I started out with a different approach to this peach cobbler recipe, you see. I thought I'd try out the new Betty Crocker Gluten-Free Bisquick mix I bought this week. I imagined a golden topped biscuity crust you could sink your teeth into, a melt-in-your-mouth forkful of shortcake, dripping with warm and sticky-sweet juice.

But what I got was a bone white mound of anemic dough (scarily reminiscent of Play Dough) baked into what can only be described as yesterday's mashed potatoes. It didn't even try to turn golden. And it didn't melt in your mouth like a biscuit. It just sat there on your tongue. Flavorless. Bored. Expecting to be admired without effort. Like those fame junkies who are famous for simply being famous. They haven't actually accomplished anything to garner their celebrity status. They just nurture a deeper narcissistic ambition than your average high school beauty queen. They expect adulation because they exist.

Like an awful lot of the gluten-free foods churned out by corporate entities.

They expect we'll fall to our knees with gratitude just because it sports two little words on its label. As if the virtue of being gluten-free is enough. Enough to get us to shell out almost seven hard earned dollars for two and a half cups of cheap refined starch and the privilege of convenience.

And don't get me wrong. I get the allure. I do.

I mean, you're standing there in the supermarket. It's late. You're hungry. And it's right there in front of you. Right next to the 40 acres of shiny wheat laden stuff you can't have. Ever. And those magic words: Gluten-Free! They sparkle. Someone up there in the land of corporate giants has heard of us! They validate you and your odd little disease.

We exist!

And hence, we may consume.

They are recognizing us now, Sweetpea, because we constitute a billion dollar windfall. The food industry has awakened to the perky reality TV version of celiac disease. And sure, I know. The argument is, It's all good. Any awareness is positive (even though the gluten-free diet may be in danger of losing street cred because of its faddish status with actresses who subscribe to its hyped promise of weight loss).

Can the drive for GF profit lead to better eating, though?

I'm not so sure. If the tepid taste of Betty Crocker's Bisquick is any indication, we have not come a long way, baby. Big companies use the cheapest ingredients they can to conjure stuff for the growing gluten-free demand. That means there's an awful lot of "old school gluten-free" going on (based on Bette Hagman's twenty-year old white rice flour and starch blend, perhaps?). G-free mixes and packaged foods use predominately refined white rice flour and inexpensive starches. A glut of empty calories.

Like @AutumnMakes tweeted yesterday, "...funny how it seems the big corps are years behind the everyday gluten-free bakers..."

Indeed. We humble home cooks have discovered the soft, lovely crumb of sorghum and almond flour. Gluten-free cornmeal and buckwheat. Our baking isn't dull or crumbly, dry, or without pizazz. Our flour choices reflect a preference for taste, texture and higher nutrition. And I think we're smarter than the average consumer.

So for now I'm going to continue to eschew the walk down the center food aisles (as Michael Pollan advises). I'll focus on my own gluten-free flour blends and eating whole foods daily.

And in a pinch, when some wild craving hits and I'm too tired to deal with three separate flour bags, I'll use a GF pancake mix (both small family companies who have been in our celiac corner from the beginning).

And I'll create my own cobbler topping, thank you.



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Gluten-Free Peach Coffee Cake with Cinnamon Streusel Topping

It was so hard to let this cake cool before cutting into it.

Why is it when I bake a coffee cake I get all dreamy and gooey inside, like a knee-socked school girl in Latin class, riveted to the patch of peachy, fuzzy cloud against the swaying swatch of blue between the maple tree branches outside the classroom window, imagining love itself is out there, waiting, breathing, just beyond reach, ready to pounce. Like grace. When you least expect it, a gift arrives. Often in a form you don't recognize at first.

Like a plaid shirt.

And hands that juggle.

The truth is, I didn't even know juggling was on my list.

My top criteria (scrawled in gel black ink one rainy night post divorce) listed kindness, a sense of humor, artistic.

It conjured images of tempered masculinity. Intelligence. Adept at conversation. Curiosity.

Likes women (a big one).

It mentioned nothing about juggling. Or fierce devotion to coffee. Or a willingness to wash dishes. It neglected to include the seductive power of coffee cake. The sexy allure of a cinnamon dusted chin.

So imagine my surprise when on our second date (post French roast coffee and dirt bomb muffins) he grabs three apples. And juggles. While whistling. I can't remember the tune.

Because my knees turned to pudding.

And now, almost twenty years later, I hear a key in the door. And my heart is grateful. It's him. The guy in a plaid shirt.

Bearing peaches.

More gifts.

And once more, I accept.


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Gluten-Free Peach Crisp Recipe

Fabulous and peachy. Gluten-free peach crisp with oats.

As seasoned Gluten-Free Goddess® readers know, yours truly went egg-free in June 2007 (as well as dairy-free). Which complicated gluten-free baking just a tad. Browsing the recipe archives this morning, I found this amazing gluten-free peach crisp recipe- and got to relive the trials and tribulations of my fledgling gluten-free egg-free dairy-free baking. We've come a long way- all of us.

Time to re-share this wonderful summer dessert.

So climb into your time machine, campers. We're going back to the future. Sorta.

Your plucky gluten-free goddess at large has been conjuring egg-free disasters- one after another- in her tiny blue-tiled cocina. And tossing said disasters (affectionately known as drek) into the trash bin left and right, developing quite an aim despite her gloomy disposition.

She shoots- she scores!

In fact, the greenbacks spent on the alternative flours, gluten-free casein-free mixes, tiny allergen-free chocolate chips and organic bananas could have bought said Gluten-Free Goddess a lovely bottle of Lavanila Summer. The big bottle, not the purse size.

And by the way, don't believe what they tell you about subbing eggs with bananas in a chocolate recipe, Babycakes, unless you have a taste for tacky, gummy brownies that have a faint but distinct Eau de Baby Food top note.

But in every third act... there's a moment.

You know, that pregnant pause, where our bruised but glistening heroine turns- damp and tendrilled, emotionally raw, soy-free chocolate smears artfully adorning her noble apron- and tucks an errant wisp of hair behind her left ear as she squints into the radiating oven, inhales a whiff of cinnamon-laced peachy heaven and senses deep in her fragile loyal heart she's got a winner.

Cue music.

Darling, this summery vegan treat is so luscious your gluten-eating wiener-chomping friends will scrape their plates shiny clean and beg for more. They will. Promise.

So you may as well make two. One for them.

And one for you.

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Vegan Peach Ice Cream

Gluten-free dairy-free peach ice cream.

A small gift for you this weekend. Some cool, frosty, non-dairy peachy goodness. A vegan ice cream recipe for the sticky dog days of late summer. Wait. Is it August already? Good goddess, the summer is careening by. It's true what they say about the concept of time. It speeds up and gets fluid as you get, um, shall we say, older. Seasoned.

One might even venture, weathered.

During your ritual morning walk your husband turns to you and mentions a moment from yesterday and the dirt path beneath you starts to swim (not that swimming surfaces are all that unusual out here in the shimmering southwest sun).

You ask, Wait. Was that yesterday?

And he thinks a minute. Wait, he says. Friday?

You hear the brittle dryness of the desert wind. The roar of the loud cobalt sky. There are red and sienna stones beneath your feet. The same stones as yesterday, last week, last year.

That was last week, you offer gently, shaking your head in a spin cycle of empathy and disbelief and astonishment.

Dude, he says. Recalculating.

Tell me about it, you sigh.

Weeks morph into days.

How about some peach ice cream for breakfast?

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Gluten-Free Peach Muffins with Almond Flour

Gluten-free peach muffins baked with almond flour.

Today is Labor Day. And here I am working. Editing photographs of peach muffins and writing up a new gluten-free recipe. No rest for the wicked. Or the self-employed. We bloggers toil at our living daily, working through holidays and oftentimes, dinner. We tend and tweak and pretty much live a nerdy geek life. The opposite of glamorous.

Or maybe it's just me.

There are plenty of extroverted bloggers who travel and attend blogging conferences and hob nob. They dine together and smile brilliantly in group pictures, tweeting breathlessly their mutual squee. And I envy them. Sometimes. Just a little.

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